


send the pain below

by arthurslegacy (scisaacugh)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Schizophrenia, Trans Male Character, i really am a kinnie huh, probably others but this is based on my experienced and what i've been diagnosed w, trans Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-24 20:30:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17711051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scisaacugh/pseuds/arthurslegacy
Summary: Merlin was always good at hiding things. Secrets are heavy things, though.





	send the pain below

**Author's Note:**

> ok so first of all i'm american and according 2 wikipedia english people call mac and cheese macaroni cheese? but i just said mac and cheese. yes there's mac in this fic no it's not actually that important
> 
> second i am a mentally ill trans man and all of merlin's experiences are based off of mine cause i am a dumb kinnie. this is kinda a venting fic and i wasn't even sure if i was gonna post it cause it's rly personal but i was like fuck it! this is probably all over the place too cause my brain is still a little scrambled when i write but it's fine
> 
> third, the title comes from the chevelle song. that's all u may read now

Merlin was always good at hiding things. The big secret, of course, is his magic, but that wasn’t all he held close. For the first eighteen years of his life he was told he was a girl, and when it becomes clear he is not one, his mother sends him away to Camelot, where he will be safer. There he can practice magic as well — in secret, that is.

Secrets are heavy things, though. They press on your shoulders and become stones in your chest, pointed and weighty. They get into your head, too, and they fester. Keeping his magic and gender a secret for so long didn’t happen easily and without consequences. Not that it’s his fault — he did what he had to do to survive, and that’s that. But faking your entire identity takes a toll on anyone, and Merlin is no exception.

The paranoia starts when he is thirteen. It isn’t too bad, just this nagging sense that he is being watched in his own home, but it’s uncomfortable all the same. When he is sixteen he awakes one night _knowing_ he is in someone else’s body, _knowing_ he had replaced someone and oh, does he feel guilty, so so guilty. (He is fine in the morning, and he pretends it never happened.) Another night he can’t sleep because he is a god, and that terrifying knowledge keeps him awake for hours. He’s also sixteen when he realises everyone is wrong about him being a girl, but he waits two years to share that information with anyone else, as it makes him want to die every second of every day. (Nothing makes you burn quite like the pain of hating every fibre of your being.) At seventeen he is not the only one in his head, he thinks. Someone is sharing his brain, and sometimes he gets thoughts that are not his own, and it’s _scary_. Maybe they convinced him he is something he has never been and could never be, whether it be a powerful man or… just a man.

His mum tells him it’s all real, but maybe she isn’t real either. The thought makes him ache and he shoves it away fast every time.

Sometimes he thinks nothing will ever feel real again, but the world gets a little brighter when he meets Arthur. No one can cure him, of course; he knows there’s something wrong with him, even if he doesn’t have the words for it. Things haven’t been clear for a long time, and they won’t be for centuries, but this prince, he helps without even knowing. Arthur sees him as a man, as much of a man as he is himself, and he makes Merlin laugh and cry and scream because he is a perfectly flawed mess. He falls slowly and without noticing until one day Arthur is the bright centre of his universe and he has to look away, both for the light in his eyes and the emotions surely crystal clear on Merlin’s face.

Arthur does not, cannot love him back.

 

***

 

After Nimueh, Merlin breaks, if only for a little while. He didn’t know he had that kind of power, and he wishes he never had to use it. Nimueh was just doing what she thought was right for her kind, _their_ kind, and he killed her, and he can never take that back. Curled up in his bed, he knows he’s lost sight of reality, but he doesn’t know how to get back to his own world, the real (realest?) one. His mind replays her death over and over but there’s blood this time, so much blood, and Gaius is dying in the other room, and when he looks out the window to clear his mind, everything is glowing just slightly.

That’s not right.

He sleeps, and when he awakes he is in the right world.

 

***

 

He tells Lance how hard it is to think some days, how sometimes it gets so bad he can’t get out of bed, how someone not so human is after him. Lance doesn’t understand, but he’s a good friend. He talks Merlin down from hurting himself on the worst days, the ones where Arthur is in a mood and Merlin can’t be alone without the weight of the kingdom crashing down on him. He has so, so many secrets. Each one he shares with Lance alleviates a little of the pain, but he can’t truly be free until all his secrets are fully out in the open. 

Usually, having trouble thinking is just a pain in the ass, but it’s gotten him in danger more than once. He needs to think fast, but he can’t think at all, his mind just goes blank, and suddenly he’s been caught or kidnapped and he always gets away, he’s too powerful to _really_ get into trouble, but damn if it doesn’t ruin his day. Arthur is always pissy when he disappears for a day or two.

 

***

 

Losing Lance sends him into another spiral. By now he’s learned how to hide his _state_ , pretends he’s just sick, but he doesn’t know if he fools Arthur this time. In any case, Arthur lets him take a few days off for once, and Merlin spends the entire time in bed, sometimes under the blanket because They’re watching him. He knows who They are now — They’re not from his world, and They’re after him because he is too powerful. The tingling at the top of his spine lets him know They’re nearby.

His body is not his own, he knows that now too. Somehow, when he was running from Them, he got put into the wrong kind of body. At his very soul he is male, another thing he knows for sure. But he is also more than this body, this prison, this soft cage. His brain is yelling at him, physically it’s his _brain_ , and the words travel up his spine, and there are so many thoughts his head is so crowded and they’re all so fast. And now he remembers his body, the one that is not his, and thinks how disgusting it is to have one at all.

Now that Lance is gone, there is no one left to love him. He’s bad for everyone, he brings trouble everywhere he goes, and other people only bring him down anyway. _Shut the fuck up shut up shut up shut up you talk too much never talk again no one cares you’re too clumsy annoying out of it_

The sunlight is bright in his eyes, too bright, so he dives back under his blanket, leaving his feet exposed to danger as he pulls the blanket over his head. He tosses and turns for what feels like hours before he finally falls asleep with visions of violence repeating in his mind.

Three days later he is better. Gaius and Arthur give him knowing looks, though Arthur definitely does _not_ know what is really going on with Merlin, but at least he’s being nice for now. Life goes on, and Merlin waits for the next spiral, knows it will come sooner or later.

 

***

 

He’s seen a lot of violence since he came to Camelot. Really, it comes with the territory of being Arthur’s manservant. But nothing compares to the violence inside his head, the blood and fire and darkness living in him. His brain keeps telling him to bang bang bang his head against the wall until his brains spill out. Every time he closes his eyes he sees his butchered mother lying dead on the floor. His ribs seem to break every time he moves, so he lies still on his back and tries to breathe evenly.

To clear his head he goes for a walk, trying his best not to look suspicious as he slips into the darkness. He’s friendly with the guards, but one can never be too careful. He’s really not in the mood to be questioned.

The cold air cleanses him and the violent thoughts float away with the wind.

 

***

 

It’s bad all the time, but some days are just worse, for whatever reason. One day he doesn’t know who he is, another he has ghosts living inside him, others he just hates himself and his entire existence. He powers through, tells himself the next week will be better, and though it never is, he is willing to believe anything that will get him through each day. If Arthur knows how miserable he is, he says nothing. Merlin tries to stay positive, but he has been through so much, done so many things he wishes he could regret.

He does not deserve the power he has been given, he is well aware of this. It should have been given to someone else, someone who isn’t such a mess. How is _Merlin_ supposed to save Arthur? Besides that, how is he supposed to live another day with the weight of the kingdom on his shoulders? He has saved Arthur countless times, yes, but at what price, and when will it all come crashing down?

 

***

 

Camlann is when it all comes crashing down.

Merlin holds Arthur, a literal dead weight in his arms, and cries and screams for Kilgharrah to save him. He was right all along, his power should have been given to another, more capable man.

He has lost the only two people with whom he discussed his issues. His closest friend and the love of his life are gone… but Camelot remains. Arthur’s beloved kingdom and wife live on, and that’s reason enough to keep going. He has stayed strong for this long, given up so much for his friends, so why give in now? There is always a new mission, a new reason to stay alive.

He and Gwen drifted apart long ago, but now he has a chance to repair their friendship. It is a new day, a new era, and while Merlin can’t find it in him to live for himself, living for Arthur and Camelot is good enough for the time being. Nothing can stop the paranoia, and They will never leave him alone, but fuck it if he won’t push through.

Gwen helps. When everything is fuzzy, she helps ground him; when he cries because he’s someone else, she calms him down. She’s there when the world gets wavy, when he slips into alternate realities where everything is brighter, more colourful. She’s there until she’s not, and suddenly all his friends are dead and it’s time to move on.

 

***

 

Arthur returns on a Sunday. Merlin feels the lake tugging him towards it, and he goes without fuss. There he finds the water bubbling, and out of it rises Arthur, looking just as he did the day he died. There’s no time to cry, yet; first Merlin needs to help him out. He grabs Arthur’s hand, pulls him to the lakeside and collapses.

“You’re here,” he chokes out, staring at Arthur with wide eyes. “I’m not hallucinating? I can’t be, it’s been so long.” He’s been on antipsychotics for months, and sure, he has ups and downs, but there’s no way—

“Merlin? Where am I?” He looks around, but the forest hasn’t changed much in the past fifteen hundred years.

“Arthur,” he says, still choked up. “You’re in… well, you’re in England. It’s been over a thousand years.” Might as well lay it all out now. Either way, he’s still going to be overwhelmed when he sees how much the world has changed as soon as they leave the forest.

Indeed, he isn’t so fond of Merlin’s car. Magic has all but disappeared, he assures Arthur sadly, but Arthur will not listen. Even at the flat, Arthur can’t believe everything is run by electricity. Merlin can’t help but laugh. It’s all he’s able to do now that Arthur is back.

“I hate to leave you as soon as you’ve gotten back,” Merlin says after a while, “but I’ve got work in thirty. It only takes fifteen minutes to walk there, so I can fix you some food first? Oh, but you probably don’t know what most of this is. I’ll pick up some fruit and meat on the way home, and for now you can have mac and cheese.”

“Mac and cheese,” Arthur repeats dully. “What’s the mac?”

“Macaroni. Was that around back then? I can’t remember. Everything gets so jumbled up even without all the—” He gestures rather unhelpfully at his head.

“Right,” Arthur says slowly. Merlin just turns and opens a cabinet, pulls something out of a box, and tosses it onto the counter.

“So. I’ll teach you how to use the microwave.”

 

***

 

Arthur loved him in their first life and he loves him in this life. He will love him as long as their souls exist.

Having Arthur back and watching him adjust to a new world are new reasons to keep going. Merlin lives for himself first and foremost, but what is a house without a foundation? Life isn’t so big anymore; it’s all about the little things. It’s about Arthur celebrating his first modern birthday, trying Starbucks for the first time, learning how to microwave mac and cheese. They get to enjoy themselves without the weight of a kingdom on their shoulders.

 

***

 

Recovery isn’t as easy as they make it sound. First you have to want to get better, and that can take years. Merlin spent a long time thinking he either deserved or _needed_ to feel like shit; he was attached to the misery, and he didn’t know how to give it up. It was familiar, and familiarity was comfort, right? Right.

Once you want to get better, at least enough to seek help, there’s the problem with medications. Finally he has names for his diseases — trans (though he’s told that’s not a disease), depression, schizophrenia — and they put him on antidepressants and antipsychotics. Within a day he’s throwing them up, sick and shaking over the toilet. He feels like absolute shit for weeks. The shakiness, the weak hands, the weird energy vibrating under his skin, the sleeping twelve or more hours a day then feeling exhausted the entire time he’s awake…

But then he starts to feel better. Sharper thoughts, no echo; the good kind of energy; everything is faster and clearer. _They_ stop watching him after a few months. That doesn’t keep him from wanting to stop taking his medications, though. He misses the comfort he found in being able to cross into a different world when he needed to get away from his problems, and he knows it wasn’t _real_ , but it felt real enough. It takes six months for him to start feeling like a person again, for him to really start wanting to get better, and a month after that Arthur is back, and the world feels right.

Nothing with Arthur could ever be wrong, and Merlin has found his place in the world once again. His secrets are out in the open, at least as much as he needs them to be, and life feels light for the first time in a long time. He’s lost a lot, but he’s gained just as much.

Happiness feels like sitting on your porch on a warm spring day, like walking in the snow and feeling the biting cold and knowing you’re alive.


End file.
